The Contest
by snapesgirl21
Summary: When Rangemen get bored, they get up to no good. A wager is placed and the winner takes all. What is the bet, who is the winner, and what can possibly come of it all?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize. I got this idea after watching an episode of **_**Rescue Me.**_** In my world, Hector speaks English with those he trusts, but he acts like he doesn't around others for various reasons. This is from Ranger's POV.**

There are several benefits to employing an all-male workforce. For one, men rarely allege sexual harassment against one another. Secondly, men in general are better physically-equipped to handle the job requirements at Rangeman. A third benefit is that I save money by not having to install a female locker room in the gym, and I don't have to pay for a woman's insurance coverage, which is typically more expensive because they occasionally get pregnant.

Because we are all men, there are more instances of stupid shit happening than there likely be would be if we had some women around, like betting Hal that he could remove the engine of a Mercedes or literally dragging uncooperative FTAs to jail by chaining them to the SUV. The most recent incident was no different, except this time I was interested instead of annoyed.

I trust the men in my office with my life, but that trust doesn't stop me from occasionally eavesdropping on them when I see them congregated in groups. That typically means they are up to something, especially if we haven't had anything serious happen for a while. Last Wednesday proved to be one of those situations.

Things had been quiet for the past couple of months. The few break-ins that had occurred were minor and no suspects had been on the scene by the time we'd arrived. Stephanie hadn't attracted any lunatics or blown up any cars, and since we'd given up on bond enforcement entirely in the Trenton office, we no longer had the entertainment of the few skips that were stupid enough to try to get away. Even removing the squatters from a building on Stark Street had proven to be a mundane task because they'd been so strung-out that they couldn't have fought if they'd wanted. I had been watchful for signs that the guys might be getting up to no good, especially the guys without military backgrounds. They weren't quite as disciplined as the ex-soldiers. When I saw Tank, Hal, Lester, Woody and Ramon all sitting together in the dining room, I thought it wise to see what they were up to. I had the ability to not only see what was going on in every public corner of Rangeman, but could also turn on the audio and listen to the conversations.

"—pathetic, Woody," Ramon was saying as he ate a sandwich. "When I get a boner, I use it for the common good."

"I was alone in my apartment," Woody replied. "And since Ranger doesn't let us have guests, I would have had to leave my apartment and either gone to some girl's place or to a bar to pick someone up. The boner would have been long gone by the time I got anywhere, not to mention I'd rather not have to walk through the building like that. It's bad enough that my nickname is Woody."

"Your nickname is Woody because you get a boner over anything. A hot girl, a ham sandwich, new pants, a pothole…," Lester chortled with a shit-eating grin. Woody flipped him off and dug into his container of yogurt.

"_Anyway_, I decided to measure my dick before I jerked off. I'd read in an article the other day that the average male penis is like five-and-a-half inches long. I was wondering if mine was as superior as I thought it was."

"And was it?" Tank asked.

"Seven-and-a-half inches, baby," Woody replied proudly. "Suck on that."

"That's more of Hector's gig," Lester said as Hector walked into the room.

"What's my gig?" Hector asked as he grabbed a sandwich.

"Sucking on Woody's seven-and-a-half inch dick."

Hector looked impressed. "Seven-and-a-half inches? Not bad, but what about girth?"

"Girth?" Hal asked, looking confused.

"Circumference," Ramon replied, though Hal's only response was a blank stare. "How thick it is, you know, around your dick."

"Oh, right," Hal said, finally getting it. I shook my head. How Hal had managed in the Army for five years was a mystery at times.

"I didn't measure that," Woody said, looking concerned. "Is it really that important?"

"You can have a twelve-inch dick, but if it's only as big around as a pencil, you might as well be a woman," Hector informed the group. "Girth is more important than length, unless you're packing something under four inches."

"All this time I'd been thinking that you'd be a top," Lester said, looking at Hector as though he'd never seen him before. "I never dreamed you'd be a bottom."

"I _am_ a top," Hector replied with a stare that said he wasn't excited about Lester's comment. "But every top has been a bottom at least once."

No one else was dumb enough to make any more comments about Hector's sexuality. Being gay, Latino, and a gang-banger had made Hector's life incredibly difficult. I was the only one that knew the meaning behind his teardrop tattoo. It represented the murder of a man in Hector's former gang who had beaten his lover, Juan, to a pulp when the true nature of their relationship came out. Juan had survived, but had been left in a profoundly disabled state. He was now living in a nursing facility just outside of Atlantic City, unable to speak or do anything for himself. Hector had gone to visit him every week of the past three years.

"How about a _little wager_ on the _biggest wanger_ in the group?" Ramon suggested, smiling at his own play on words.

"Would we use length, girth, or both?" Tank asked.

"Both, with an emphasis on girth," Lester said. "Since Hector says that's more important than length. We'll measure the length and multiply it by two, measure girth and multiply it by three, and then we'll add the two scores together to determine the overall winner."

Everyone nodded in agreement. "Who else is in?"

"How about it just be us? That way, there is less chance that Ranger will get wind of it," Tank suggested. "I doubt he'd want to know that we're going to be sitting around measuring our dicks."

I couldn't help but chuckle as I watched the men all look over their shoulders to see if I was nearby. They seemed to forget that I could tap into the security cameras. Most of the men seemed to think I had some sort of ESP.

"What's the wager? Fifty? Winner takes all?" Ramon asked. Everyone nodded again.

"Everyone get your measurements tonight and we'll crown a winner tomorrow," Lester said. "I'm hoping I have a shot, though it doesn't seem likely with Tank and Hal in the group."

"And make sure you're measuring from the top," Hector said, giving every man a stare that suggested he would know if they cheated.

"From the top?" Ramon groaned. "Shit, I'll definitely lose this one."

"Damn, now I have to measure again," Woody grumbled.

The group dispersed as their lunch hour ended with the promise of giving their measurements and money to Tank the next morning. I turned off the surveillance footage and leaned back in my chair. Woody clearly needed a life if he spent his down time measuring his penis, but I had to admit to myself that I was curious to know if I was _superior_ to the average man. I was almost certain that I was longer than the average five-and-a-half inches, but I wasn't sure about girth. I would do some research later once I was in the privacy of my apartment. I figured ethnicity also played a part. The assumption that African-American men had big dicks surely didn't get started without a reason. I wondered how Latinos measured up to other racial groups.

After dinner that night, I went to the computer in my den and started researching penis sizes, careful of links I clicked on to avoid downloading pornography or viruses. I was pleasantly surprised to find that studies showed Latinos seemed to rank with Africans/African-Americans in size. Curiosity was getting the best of me, so I went into my dressing and found a measuring tape that Ella had used when gathering measurements for my suits. I blew out an uneasy sigh at the knowledge that I was getting ready to measure my dick like a teenager using something that only Ella tended to handle. I tried to tell myself it wasn't a big deal. Ella washed my underwear, though I'd never asked her to buy my condoms. There were some things a man should do for himself. I reached a mental compromise and decided I would sanitize the measuring tape when I was done.

Masturbation wasn't my preferred choice for achieving satisfaction. In the past, I'd gone out to bars or called one of the women I'd been with at some point to help take care of that particular need when I found it too difficult to continue ignoring. But then I'd met Stephanie Plum. She had started consuming those thoughts and after our first night together, I found myself not wanting anyone but her. Since I hadn't been able to have her too often, masturbation had become a more common occurrence than it had once been. I was already in need of a shower, so that was where I took care of business. I took myself in hand, thinking about one of the days Stephanie and I had spent in Hawaii. I managed to get myself to the brink before I stopped long enough to get both length and girth measurements. Once I'd memorized the numbers, I'd thrown the tape measure aside and finished quickly to the memory of one of Stephanie's orgasms on our private beach.

The next morning, I went into Tank's office while he was out on a job and checked out the numbers on the papers that he'd put in his desk drawer. Using the scoring method Lester had suggested the day before, I quickly realized I was at the top of the pack, with the exception that I didn't know Tank's numbers. Deciding I'd take the gamble, I put a slip of paper with my measurements and a fifty dollar bill into the drawer, purposely not writing my name on it. Tank came back to the office right before lunch and sat down to determine the winner. I could tell he'd reached mine when he turned the paper over to try to find the name. Looking confused, he must have assumed one of the guys invited someone else into the bet and I heard him say "Damn it, I thought I was going to win". I smiled and leaned back in my chair. I was about to be three hundred dollars richer. Not that three hundred was much in comparison to my current net worth, but I still appreciated it from my days of growing up in a working-class Latino family. I decided I'd give the money to Stephanie, since she was who I'd been thinking of when I'd taken my measurements.

I watched Tank head to the dining room and waited for all of the men to arrive before I headed that way. I waited just outside the door so that I could listen without being seen. I could hear everyone talking about what they had done the night before.

"I hit up a favorite booty call of mine and she had fun doing the measurements," Lester boasted.

"I put on some porn and went from there," Hector said.

"I picked up a chick at a bar," Woody said. "But when it came time to measure, she didn't like my results and left me with my dick in my hand. Literally."

That made everyone laugh.

"What about you Hal? You've been walking funny all day. You spend the night pounding some chick?"

I could practically hear Hal blush. "No, I took a Viagra that an old girlfriend that wanted me to try, but I never did. I'm still a little hard."

Everyone tried hard not to laugh at Hal, but a couple of guys failed.

"What's the verdict?" Lester asked excitedly, trying to spare Hal any more embarrassment. "I was pretty proud of my numbers."

"Last place goes to Ramon with an overall score of 21.25, you little pencil dick," Tank said, causing everyone but Ramon to laugh.

"Don't worry—I make up for it with my magic fingers and tongue," Ramon replied smugly. "That's going to help me out when I'd old and can't get it up the way I do now."

"You keep telling yourself that," Woody said. "Keep going, Tank."

"You were second to last with a score of 25.5," Tank informed him. I could hear snorts of laughter, but Woody said nothing.

"Lester was next with a score of 26.5. Hal was only slightly bigger with a score of 26.75. Hector pulled out a respectable 28, and I scored 31.25," Tank finished. "But the winning entry didn't have a name on it. Who else was in on the bet?"

No one had an answer, so I took that as my cue to step up and claim the prize.

"That would be me," I informed the group.

Everyone looked surprised and a little embarrassed to know that I'd not only caught on to what they were doing, but had participated myself and won.

"Not only does he have the biggest balls, but now we know he also has the biggest dick," Tank said, handing me the cash. I took the money and headed back out of the room.

"And don't you forget it."

A/N part 2: Below is a chart of the breakdown of the scores and measurements. *At the insistence of a certain group of ladies I know (you know who you are), I brought Ranger up to a full 8" because of 'Hard Eight'. You're welcome, babes. Happy fantasizing.*

Name

Length (*2)

Girth(*3)

Total (L+G)

Ranger

8*2=16

5.5*3=16.5

32.5

Tank

7.75*2=15.5

5.25*3=15.75

31.25

Hector

6.5*2=13

5*3=15

28

Hal

6.25*2=12.5

4.75*3=14.25

26.75

Lester

6.25*2=12.5

4.75*3=14.25

26.5

Woody

6*2=12

4.5*3=13.5

25.5

Ramon

5.75*2=11.5

3.25*3=9.75

21.25


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Peer pressure drove me to write more to this story. Who knows how long it might be at this point. I'm winging it, folks. The story will still be from Ranger's POV.

After my monthly meeting with my accountant later that afternoon, I headed towards Stephanie's apartment building to give her the money I'd won. I knew she'd ask where it came from, but I didn't think I could bring myself to tell her the truth. It was truly pathetic that grown men had actually been in a dick-measuring contest. I'd only joined in to make a point to my men, but it didn't take away from the point that I had _actually_ participated. I decided that I would simply tell her I'd won a bet and that I'd been thinking of her when I'd made it. The likelihood of that satisfying her curiosity was slim, but I'd have to come up with a way to distract her from pursuing further questioning.

I scanned her lot as I pulled in, glad to see that Morelli's car wasn't there. I had worked hard over the years to keep my feelings in check when it came to Stephanie's relationship with him. I did my best to ignore it since their commitment to one another was shaky and inconsistent, but I couldn't ignore the fact that I hated it. I could see that the light was on in her apartment, so I headed into the building and up to the second floor. When I arrived at her apartment, I tried the door, but found it locked. When Hector had installed Stephanie's door and the locks, he'd made me a copy of the keys. I'd never told her that I had a set, so she presumed that I still picked the locks every time I came in unannounced. She always assumed the more ludicrous option instead of the most likely one. I let myself in and listened for her. The television was off, but I could hear her moving around in her bedroom, so I headed to the back of the apartment.

There was a cardboard box on her bed and Stephanie was folding a man's t-shirt. She looked up when she sensed my presence.

"What's up?" she asked as she put the shirt in the box.

I walked over to the bed and looked in the box. Along with the t-shirt were an old pair of men's running shoes, a bottle of aftershave, two old tennis balls, and a basketball.

"I should be asking you that question," I replied, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Stephanie heaved a sigh as she reached for another t-shirt. "Morelli and I broke up—for good, this time. He was in another phase of wanting me to quit my job and settle down. I told him I wasn't totally opposed to getting married, but I wasn't sure about kids, and I definitely wasn't going to quit my job. We were on the same page up to the part about me quitting my job. It was a deal-breaker for both of us, so we decided that this was the end of the road for our relationship. I think it was even worse when we both realized that it didn't quite hurt as much as it should have."

I did my best to keep the surprise off of my face. I'd always known that Morelli and Stephanie weren't right for each other, but I never actually thought they would permanently end their relationship. I'd expected that they'd eventually get married and have children, fighting and fucking like they always had until one of them finally died. What was worse was the level of excitement I was experiencing at this news. It wasn't right to be this happy about Stephanie being truly single when I had no intentions of settling down any time soon, no matter how much I loved her. I couldn't expect her to be satisfied with what little I could give her until I reached a point in my life where I thought I was ready to get into a committed relationship. I wasn't even sure if I would ever reach that point.

_You were here to give her money you won because you had the biggest cock in a group of men at your office, not worry about the future, _I told myself. _Get it together_.

Stephanie made a sound of disgust that brought me back to the present moment. She was holding up a pair of Navy-issued dive shorts and a look of disapproval crossed her face.

"I hate these things," she commented as she folded them and put them in the box. "Morelli always wanted to wear them around here. They were too short and his _stuff_ would show almost anytime he moved. I can't believe he'd buy them to begin with."

I chuckled, thankful for the shift in conversation. "Babe, he got those from the Navy when he started SEAL training. Every branch has something similar they issue when you go into Special Forces training. They are made so that you can run and swim easily in them. And your junk is supposed to show at times. I think it's a psychological tactic to assess and improve your ability to keep calm and collected when you're exposed and vulnerable."

A look of surprise crossed Stephanie's face. "But Morelli wasn't a SEAL. He left the Navy after two years."

I'd done a background check on Morelli a few years ago when he'd been FTA and I was helping Stephanie learn the ropes of bond enforcement. I'd learned that he had been accepted into BUDS training during his second year in the Navy, but had washed out after four months and chose not to re-enlist when his tour was over. Morelli had apparently decided not to tell Stephanie about his failed attempt at becoming a SEAL. I personally didn't think it was anything to ashamed about. They didn't accept just anyone into Special Forces training programs, but they made sure that only the best of the best made it to the end.

"But he was accepted into the training program, so he got the shorts."

"Do you have shorts like these?" Stephanie asked, avoiding eye contact as she tried to appear less interested than she actually was.

I couldn't help but smile. "Yes, but the Army calls them 'Ranger panties'."

A small laugh escaped her. "You're kidding, right? _Ranger panties_?"

I shook my head. "That's what they're called. But mine are black."

"Of course they are," Stephanie said. "I'm just having a hard time wrapping my brain around the words _Ranger_ and _panties_ without the words –_is taking off my – _in between them. Do you still have them?"

"Yes."

She sucked in a breath and I smiled again. I loved the effect I had on her. It was the same effect she had on me, except I was better at concealing it.

"Do you still wear them?"

"Sometimes, if I don't feel like sleeping naked," I said, watching as she almost had orgasm at the thought. "If you're interested in seeing them, I think I'll wear them tonight."

I could see the dilemma Stephanie was experiencing as she debated the idea. She didn't want to just jump into bed with me right after breaking up with Morelli, especially because she knew my limitations, but she was struggling to resist the idea of seeing me in the shorts.

"I'm having dinner at my parents' house, taking Grandma to a viewing, and then I need to drop this stuff off at Morelli's and pick up the few thing I've left there, so I don't know if I'll have the time to stop by before it's too late," she said. "Um, but why was it that you stopped by?"

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the three-hundred and fifty dollars from the bet. "I was dropping this off for you."

Stephanie took the money and counted it. "I don't understand. What is this for?"

I shrugged. "I won a bet. I don't need the money, and since I was thinking of you when I made the bet, I figured the winnings should go to you."

"What was the bet? Was it about me?"

I shook my head and stood to leave. "It was about me, but I was thinking about you at the time."

I grabbed Stephanie by the front of her t-shirt and pulled her into me for a quick kiss. "If you find yourself free later, stop by and you can see me in the shorts."

I knew there was a smug expression on my face as I left her apartment. There was little doubt in my mind that she would show up at some point in the evening.

I waited to change into my Ranger panties until after Ella had brought up dinner, as I thought she might be uncomfortable to see me wearing so little. After I ate, I went into my office and started reviewing monthly reports from the other offices. I'd just finished Atlanta's reports and was moving on to Boston when I heard the door to my apartment open and shut. Ella never came in unannounced when I was there, so I knew it was Stephanie. I got up from my chair and made my way towards the bedroom, where I found her peaking in from the living room to find me.

"Oh, hey," she said, slightly startled. "I wasn't sure if you were here—"

She stopped talking as she got a glimpse of me in only my Ranger panties. I could see her nipples hardened through her bra and t-shirt, and I could practically hear the increase in her heart rate.

"Is this a better sight than Morelli in his dive shorts?" I asked, knowing damn well that I looked better.

Stephanie bit down on her bottom lip as she let her eyes rest on my lower half. I walked over to her and stood close enough for her to touch me, but not too close to obstruct her view.

"They look comfortable," she managed to say, though her voice broke when she did.

"They'd be more comfortable if you took them off," I told her. "And I think your nipples would be more comfortable if I took off your shirt and bra."

She smiled slightly and looked down at her chest before returning her gaze to my shorts. After a few seconds she reached forward, hooking her thumbs in the waistband of my shorts and slid them down my hips before letting gravity send them to the floor. I stepped out of them and took a step closer to her, grabbing the hem of her shirt and pulling it up over her head. I immediately followed up by removing her bra, freeing her breasts so that I could run my thumbs over her nipples.

"Feels better, doesn't it?" I whispered as I leaned in to kiss her.

The force with which Stephanie pulled me against her was so strong that I couldn't help but chuckle. She wanted and needed this as badly as I did. I quickly divested her of her jeans and panties and pushed her over to the bed. I was lost in exploring her body, running my hand over her soft skin, tasting her, and reveling in her moans. I got so wrapped up in what I was doing that I almost forgot a condom. Not that it was the first time I'd failed to use a condom with Stephanie, but I did my best to make sure I always had some available and that I used them. I opened the drawer on my bedside table and was disappointed to see that I only had one condom. It had been so long since I'd been with Stephanie that I'd forgotten to replenish my supply. That meant I would have to make this one round spectacular.

Stephanie laid in my arms for a while after we finished, running her fingers along the defined muscles in my chest and abdomen. I loved having her in my bed and in my arms, and it made me want to make her mine so that I could have it every night. But then I thought about my insane work schedule, my still-significant list of enemies, and the idea of dinner with her family on a frequent basis. I could feasibly handle the dinners, but I didn't think she could handle my lifestyle and I couldn't handle the idea of someone targeting her because of me. Not that it hadn't happened before, but I wanted to be able to do what I could to prevent it from happening again. I almost groaned when Stephanie sat up and then got out of my bed. I'd told her about only having one condom, so she'd known that nothing else was going to happen tonight unless we wanted to risk becoming parents. I assumed that she would start redressing, but was surprised when she picked up my shorts and pulled them on. She walked into my dressing room and I could see her checking out her reflection in the mirror. The shorts looked great on her, showing off her ass nicely. They were a little shorter on her than on me, but they worked.

"These are really comfortable," she commented. "And they don't look too bad on me."

I sat up on the edge of the bed, crooked a finger at her, and she walked over to stand in front of me. I ran my hand up the inside of her legs as I spoke.

"They do look good on you. You can keep them, as long as you promise to not wear anything underneath them," I said as I ran a finger up the inside of the shorts and over her clit. She gasped as I did it, but nodded her agreement. "And if you wear them in front of Morelli, I'll keep you in cars for the rest of your life."

She laughed, but I was serious. Special Forces soldiers didn't just give their shorts to anyone. Some men I knew would burn their shorts when they became too tattered or small to wear, as they'd never met anyone worth of wearing them. To give them to a woman meant a lot, which Morelli would know. Seeing her in those shorts would be more significant than if I had nailed her on his front lawn. I figured he deserved as much for being an idiot.

"Is this some sort of macho, territory-marking thing?" she asked as she started collecting her clothes from the floor. "Seeing me in these will let Morelli know that we've been together?"

"Exactly. I figure he should suffer a little for being too stupid to not love you for who you are."

Stephanie turned around to look at me and we had one of those rare, emotionally-vulnerable moments that showed what we really felt for each other. Why we were both so fucked up that we couldn't act further on those feelings seemed beyond comprehension.

"Well, you make a point," she said, regaining some composure. "So I'll wear them while I drop off his stuff tonight. I'll let you know how he responds."

I watched as she replaced her bra and t-shirt, but put her panties in her messenger bag and folded her jeans over them. The men in the control room would undoubtedly realize what we'd been up to, especially because she was wearing my Ranger panties, but I didn't care. Every man in the office knew that my number one priority in life was Stephanie Plum and that I'd burn the world to the ground to keep her safe. I gave her a brief kiss before she left and headed back to my dressing room to pull on another pair of shorts before returning to work. I could still taste her as I tried to focus on Boston's reports, but all it did was take me back the moments when I was moving inside her. The sound of my cell phone ringing broke through and I checked the display. It was Morelli.

"Yo," I said, smiling.

"Why didn't you just come fuck her in front of me?" Morelli asked. "It would have been less obvious."

"Even though I'm sure it's bigger than yours, I don't like the idea of you seeing my dick," I replied. "But thanks for the offer."

Morelli made a disgusted noise and hung up. He hadn't argued about who had the bigger dick. I laughed out loud as I leaned back in my chair.

I was certain my dick was bigger than Morelli's. I'd seen the condoms he used and they were too small for me. This was just one more contest where my big dick and I had come out the winners.

A/N: I owe Pumehana a huge thank you for introducing to the glory of Ranger panties and their branch-specific equivalents. If you've never seen Ranger panties before, I suggest a Google search. I guess there will be more to come with this story, so stay tuned.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Sorry it's been a while since I've updated. RL had some things going on that sent my Muse into hiding. This is the final chapter in this little short story. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy it._

Word that I'd won the contest spread through the office faster than Joyce Barnhardt's legs on Thirsty Thursdays. Although I had always been respected and feared by my men, this news seemed to bring about a different kind of awe. I couldn't walk through the control room without several of the men giving my crotch a quick glance. I had hoped it would keep the men in line, realizing that I would always know what they were up to. But I had been wrong.

"There's another contest going," Tank informed me three days later as we were driving down Broad Street on patrol.

"Someone thinks they have a bigger dick than me?"

"No one is taking that bet," he replied, fighting a smile. "They are going to find out who can rack up the most rounds in one night."

"How do they plan to prove it? Anyone can make up a number."

"All of the guys involved in the bet have wives or girlfriends who have agreed to record the night's activities. They won't actually watch the recordings unless they think someone is really bullshitting them."

"Who is in on the bet?"

"Cal, Bobby, Chester Deuce, Mario, Tomas, and Zip. Clock starts at nine tonight and ends at six in the morning. Those assholes are so confident they've each put a hundred in the kitty."

I had a feeling that the guys would be asking to see Mario's video even if he only claimed one round that night. His girlfriend was a very attractive former-Miss New York whose talent in the national pageant had been labeled 'performance art in the form of mid-air isometric exercises on a ten-foot, vertical baton'. In layman's terms, she'd danced around a stripper pole on national television. Despite rave reviews from the rest of the country, she had only made it to second runner-up.

"You didn't get in on that one?"

Tank shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "No, that wouldn't be a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Because the woman I've been seeing is Zip's sister, Tina," he admitted.

I raised an eyebrow at him. We had a strict code at Rangeman about not dating each other's ex-wives or ex-girlfriends, but nothing had really been said about family members. Most of my men were from out-of-state, and only five were Trenton natives. This had greatly limited exposure to each other's families. Tank had been smart to keep quiet about dating Tina. She was only twenty-three, and since the death of their brother Ziggy, Zip had been overly protective of her.

"That's bold," I replied. "When do you plan to tell Zip that you're banging his little sister?"

I could see a sheen of sweat break out over his upper lip. "Do you think I'll have to tell him?"

"If you want a future with Tina, I'd say so. But if you end up breaking her heart, he'll do everything in his power to break every bone in your body."

"Crap," Tank moaned as he pulled to a stop. "Can I get a transfer? Miami? Atlanta? How about opening up an office in Sri Lanka?"

I slapped him on the shoulder before unbuckling my seat belt. "You were a SEAL. You've faced down scarier men that Zip."

"I wasn't banging their sister every night," Tank muttered under his breath.

Once we'd done our walkthrough of an office whose alarm kept going off, we loaded back into the car and headed back to the office.

"Heard Stephanie left your apartment in your Ranger panties the other day," Tank commented as we drove past the bond's office and spotted her car parked out front.

"Is the fifth floor a control room for a security firm or a beauty salon full of old women?"

"It's not just the guys talking. Word got around the Burg quickly. All of those ex-soldiers in the Burg know about the significance of the Ranger panties, and since you're the only ex-Army Ranger in town to have a known relationship with Stephanie, it didn't take long for people to start putting it all together."

I felt a smug sense of satisfaction knowing that everyone in town now knew where Stephanie stood with me, but I wondered how she was feeling about it. No one was brave —or stupid— enough to question me or harass me on it, but Stephanie was another story. She'd likely been fielding calls from everyone from her mother to Lula and Connie to old high school classmates. Helen Plum was probably drinking herself blind and ironing every piece of clothing in the house while every other woman was probably working on Stephanie to give them details of what I was like in bed. I'd only really cared about getting a dig in at Morelli.

I had intended to go over to Stephanie's that night, but a late evening break-in at an account in Lawrenceville kept my attention until well after midnight. I went back to Rangeman and went to sleep while I remembered how great Stephanie had looked in my shorts.

I was back down on the control room floor by eight the next morning, anxious to hear who had won the latest bet. I could hear laughter and talking as I reached the door, but it stopped as soon as I walked into the room. That's right, fear me.

Cal and Zip casually walked back to their stations while Bobby worked to wipe an extremely satisfied grin off his face. Chester Duece, Tomas, and Mario were all sitting in the monitoring area, looking both annoyed and exhausted.

"Did you win?" I asked Bobby as I stopped at his cubicle.

"You know about it?"

"I know everything."

Bobby snorted. "Of course you do. And I did win the bet. Six-hundred big ones. Not that I get to keep it, of course. Angie only agreed to the whole thing if I would give her the winnings. I just sent her a text and told her we won. She told me she's putting that money towards a cruise to the Virgin Islands."

"Do you at least get to go on the cruise with her?"

"No, she said it's going to be her and a couple of her friends. She told me my reward was getting to nail her six times in one night."

I raised an eyebrow. "Six? Not bad, Brown."

I racked my brain to see if I had ever gone that many rounds in one night with a woman. My personal best had been four times in the same night with Stephanie on a couple of occasions. To get that number up to six, I imagined we might need a bottle of lube, a Viagra, and a recovery day.

The rest of the day passed without any excitement, which was both a good thing and a bad thing. Good because it meant we all had lived through our shifts. Bad because it meant I had more time to remember how Stephanie had looked in my Ranger panties, which lead me to the decision to go over to her apartment that night after she got home from dinner with her parents. I found myself watching the clock and her trackers with an unusual impatience for the remainder of the day until eight finally rolled around that evening. It took me fifteen minutes to get to Stephanie's apartment, during which time I had sent Tank a text message and told him that I wasn't to be disturbed for anything short of death, dismemberment or zombie apocalypse until the next morning. His response had been short and succinct, but I'd had little doubt that he had been smirking. He knew perfectly well what I was up to when I asked not to be disturbed for a night. I also made a stop at the drug store on my way and grabbed a new box of condoms. I took them out of their box and put them in the pockets of my cargo pants. Not that I expected to use all twelve that night, but if I want to try to pass Bobby's record, I needed to be prepared.

I let myself into her apartment and made my way to the living room, where I found her sitting on the couch watching a sitcom. She was barefoot, drinking a beer and wearing a thin white tank top and my Ranger panties.

"Looking good, babe," I commented as I sat down on the couch next to her.

"I can't believe how much crap I've been taking for wearing these shorts," Stephanie replied while she offered me a sip of her beer. "From Morelli to my father to old Mr. Jankowski down the road and every woman in the Burg. I didn't realize these things were such a status symbol."

"I knew Morelli would get it, but didn't consider how many people in the Burg were ex-military," I admitted. "A tattoo on your forehead would have held less significance with that crowd."

"What does it really mean that you gave me your Ranger panties? Just that you got to have sex with me? That we're a couple, so every other man needs to keep his hands off?"

It means that I'm in love you and that there isn't any other woman on the planet for me, I thought. But since I had no idea what my ultimate intentions towards Stephanie would be, I thought it best to keep the words to myself for the time being.

"A Ranger doesn't just give his panties to any woman. She has to be worthy of wearing of them," I told her after taking a drag of her beer.

The look of surprise on her face was so endearing that I couldn't stop myself from leaning over to kiss her. Her lips were soft and tasted of a mixture of beer and waxy lip balm. She didn't fight the kiss, but I could tell she was trying not to lose herself in it. She wanted to find out more about the meaning of the Ranger panties. I pushed her back on the couch and ran my right hand up under her shirt while my left hand worked up her thigh and inside the shorts. Once I realized that she wasn't wearing anything under them, I knew that any further conversation was going to have to wait. Having that discussion over breakfast was preferable.

Our clothes ended up in a haphazard pile on her living room floor while I explored her body and made her forget the numerous questions she wanted to ask. I was a little distracted by the sound of the television in the background, but hadn't been able to find the remote control anywhere around Stephanie's body and didn't want to break my concentration to look for it. It was odd to hear laughter in the background while I pounded into her body, but I was able to ignore it as I focused on making her come. She finally found her peak fifteen minutes later, and I followed her into it, reveling in the feel of her body around mine. That also happened to be the moment when something significant happened on the television show, which sent the audience into a screaming applause and made Stephanie start laughing.

"Was that good for your ego?" she asked breathlessly as I placed a kiss on her nose and shifted around to spoon her body.

"I don't need a round of applause to know I'm good. Your body tells me every time."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I wear my heart on my sleeve."

"Babe, the only sleeve involved is the latex one around my dick, and it was nowhere near your heart," I replied, taking that moment to divest myself of the condom.

That earned me a snort and an elbow to the stomach. "Smartass."

We were quiet for a while as we watched the end of that show and the beginning of the next one. We were about halfway through the second show when I started making my move again, ready for another go. This time she took the top, riding me hard and fast. Rounds with Stephanie on top always went much faster than when I was in charge. She didn't have my stamina.

After the second session, I made the suggestion that we move into her bedroom for more comfort. We had two more rounds under our proverbial belts by the stroke of midnight. Stephanie fell asleep after the fourth round and I laid awake for a while watching her, trying to figure out what the hell I was going to do. I didn't want to risk her finding someone else or ending up with Morelli once again, despite the fact that they'd claimed this break up was for good. But I wasn't sure how much I could give her, or if what I could manage at this time would be enough for her.

I was roused from sleep around three to the feeling of Stephanie's hands roaming over my body. She took the top and was back to sleep in my arms again within ten minutes. Before I felt asleep once again, I did some mental calculations to determine if there was the potential tie or even beat Bobby's record. Not that I would tell any of them, but it would make me feel better. I figured out that I had a little less than two hours to get in one more round to tie Bobby and two to beat him. I wasn't sure that either situation was very likely. The alarm on my watch beeped at five, waking us both and eliciting a groan from Stephanie.

"Why do you wake up in the middle of the night?"

"It's morning, babe."

"Not by my clock. Do you have to leave?"

"I need to get showered and ready for meetings that start at seven."

Stephanie's suggestion of a joint shower led to round six, tying me with Bobby, but it had come—literally— at a risk. We hadn't used any protection during that encounter, so I figured I should stop by a church on the way home to light a candle and say a prayer to the patron saint of the sexually irresponsible, if one even existed, to ask that Stephanie and I didn't become parents in nine months' time.

"You never did tell me what it means that you gave me your Ranger panties," Stephanie said as she walked me to the door. She was a little stiff as she moved, which gave me a smug sense of satisfaction.

She stood in front of the door with hands on hips and a look of determination on her beautiful face. She wasn't going to let me go without an answer. We would need to have a longer conversation to figure out the full meaning of it all for our situation, but I thought for a few seconds about what I could give her in the meantime.

"For a soldier to give a woman his Ranger panties, it means more than any ring or piece of paper ever could," I told her. "Does that help you understand?"

She watched me for a few long moments before nodding. There were still questions burning in her blue eyes, but I stepped forward and gave her a gentle kiss before she could ask them.

"We can talk more about this later," I whispered as we broke apart. "I'll come back tonight."

Stephanie nodded again and moved aside so that I could open the door. I was through it and about to shut it behind me when she started to speak.

"About that money you gave me…," she began. "What was the bet?"

I didn't turn around to look at her, not wanting her to see the smile on my face. It was a little embarrassing to admit to her what we'd actually been betting on, but I also didn't want to lie to her.

"There was a bet on who was best equipped to do a job," I said. "And I was the winner."

"Best equipped how? Who had the biggest gun?"

Only my extensive training kept me from bursting into laughter at Stephanie's comment. The fact that she was unaware of her use of a perfect euphemism for the situation was going to keep me fighting a smile all day.

"That's exactly right, babe. I have the biggest gun."


End file.
